Uncertainty
by am4ever
Summary: **Entire story updated*** Immediately following the events of S5E7...what is Mrs. Crawley to do? Her mind was made up but now, uncertainty looms!
1. Chapter 1

**Set immediately after the horrible dinner at Downton with Lord Merton and his sons, Larry and Timothy**

**All characters are owned by Julian Fellows **

"Thank you, Moseley," she said quietly as the first footman closed the car door behind her. She did not dare look to Violet so she chose to look out the window instead. Upon seeing the look of pity of Moseley's face, she wished she had simply looked down rather than to any one direction. She only hoped these reactions to her presence would soon come to an end. They had only just begun….and already, she was sickened by them.

The car started down the drive without a word from either woman in the car. Violet gripped the top of her walking stick, cautiously sneaking a glance over at Isobel. She could not remember the last time Isobel had seemed so deflated…wait, yes she could….when Matthew had died. To see Isobel completely wilt in to herself once more made the Dowager Countess all the more angry at Larry and Timothy Grey.

"Isobel, perhaps you could come to tea tomorrow? I could use your advice on dealing with Spratt and Denker."

Isobel nodded and gripped the edges of her shawl tighter. "Yes, I will let Mrs. Field know. Just ring with the time."

The car slowed in front of Crawley House. Isobel did not wait for the chauffeur to get out of the car before opening the door on her own.

"Allow him to do that!" Violet called out, but Isobel was already out of the car.

Isobel half-turned, still not able to meet the Dowager's concerned gaze, and gave a small smile. "I will see you tomorrow then. Good night."

Violet sighed as the chauffeur closed the car door. "I would call it anything but a good night," she replied to the now empty car.

Isobel quickly made her way to the front door as the car pulled away. She slammed the door shut behind her, feeling as though she were hit by a boulder. An enormous sadness engulfed her, and the only thing keeping her standing was a tight hold on the doorknob.

Turning, she pressed her forehead against the door and her free palm to her lips. But nothing could prevent the large tears that fell from her eyes, nor the pain ripping through her chest as she tried to hold in deep sobs of regret.

* * *

Her bedroom was dark, lit only by the fire Mrs. Field had made before she went to sleep for the evening. For a moment, Isobel contemplated giving her cook the day off tomorrow. She figured it might be best…she couldn't imagine eating, nor needing anything throughout the day. And surely she could take care of herself…just as she always had.

_It's true, I'm a middle class woman. I should start to cook things on my own. I don't have a Butler…I don't need a cook really. _

She moved to her vanity and slowly pulled off her long gloves, folding them neatly and tucking them in the small drawer to the left. As she took off each piece of jewelry, she realized that if she had become Lady Merton, someone would be doing all this for her.

_I could never allow that. I would not know what to do with a Lady's Maid. The poor dear would be left with nothing to do but take my clothes down for mending. Though, I do that myself…or can take it to a tailor if need be. _

She reached behind her neck and unhooked the few clasps at the top of her dress. With ease, she then slipped her arms out of the top and undid the rest of the buttons so she could step out of the dress. Moving to the closet, she hung the dress and picked out her nightgown and robe. With a sigh, she changed and moved to stoke the fire.

_Dickie would surely insist that he take care of the fire when the maids weren't in. Or would he ring for a maid to bring more wood? Would he even come in to my bedroom with another maid present? I wonder how he and Lady Merton lived before. Reginald and I never had separate bedrooms. We dressed in the same room and slept in the same room. But of course, it would surely be different at Cavenham. _

She moved to the bed and picked up the latest novel she had been reading. Slipping under the covers, she opened to the next chapter but instead of reading, her mind kept reeling.

_Would we have read each night? Or had conversation about the day? Would it have even been a "we" each night? Larry was right…there is too great a disparity between us. It's probably better this way. _

Her thoughts continued whirling, and she knew there would be no sense in trying to indulge in her novel. Setting the book aside, she turned down the lamp and settled back against the headboard.

_I'm sure I didn't love Dickie. It was just the sense of adventure I loved, wasn't it? Violet thought the marriage was ridiculous. I'm sure many of the others thought so too, though they were kind not to say anything. And how would it have looked for Dickie's friends to hear of him marrying a middle-class widow with no money, children or land to speak of? It would have made him a laughing stock. I could never put him through that. _

She sighed and turned over, trying to get somewhat comfortable, though the deep pain in her chest remained. Her eyes dropped on to the picture on the opposite bedside table.

_Matthew….my dear, dear Matthew. _

A single tear slipped down her cheek as she closed her eyes and willed away all thought of her late son. He would have stood up for her this evening; he would have fought for her against Larry Grey and his rude remarks. Bless Tom and Robert for agreeing with Dickie that Larry leave. But, in the end, Dickie followed both of his sons home…was that a sign that their relationship was finished? She had not given him a true answer….not said if she would still marry him.

_I can't….it wouldn't be right. I'm not good enough for him…not good enough to be Lady Merton. _

And it was those depressing thoughts that caused a few more tears and lost sleep to befall Isobel Crawley that night.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

The Dowager Countess was worried, an emotion she was not accustomed to, nor did she appreciate. But as she sat in her sitting room waiting for Isobel to arrive, she could not help the anxiety causing her cane to tap incessantly.

She had wrung her cousin that morning, hoping to speak with Isobel herself. But the maid said Mrs. Crawley was out, of which Violet highly doubted, and that she would deliver the message as to what time to come for tea. The Dowager could almost see Isobel sitting alone, her nose in a book or throwing herself in to the new budget for the outpatient clinic. Though, perhaps the maid was not lying completely….Isobel did tend to go to the garden when she was upset or needed to think. Violet hoped for the latter, but upon Spratt announcing Isobel moments later, she realized Isobel had been anywhere but the garden.

"Goodness Isobel, you look dreadfully pale! Do sit down." Violet hurried over to take Isobel by the arm and sit her down on the settee. She looked back to the Butler, motioning with her head that he should exit.

As Spratt closed the door, Isobel smiled weakly at Violet and took off her gloves. "I'm quite all right, thank you."

"You're sure?" Violet asked, one eyebrow arching as she sat across from Isobel.

"Yes, quite. How are things with Spratt and Denker? You said you needed advice on keeping them from sparring with each other?"

Violet waved her hand and scoffed. "I don't think they will ever be able to get along. I would let Denker go but it took long enough to find a new maid! What am I to do if Rose is to get married? Surely there will be events in London….I cannot go without a maid again."

"I'm sure something could be worked out. Perhaps one of the maids from Downton could assist you?"

"No, knowing Cora, she will try to make Mary travel without Anna for some God-forsaken reason."

Spratt entered with the tea service and set it on the small table in the middle of the room.

"Will there be anything else, milady?"

"No, Spratt, thank you. Do tell Denker that I will be heading to Downton for dinner this evening. I'll change at half past six."

Isobel and Violet both noticed the roll of Spratt's eyes and the clearing of his throat before he silently left the room.

"I'm not sure your message will be relayed," Isobel said, following Violet to the table.

"I daresay it will not be. Really, the two of them act like a pair of children."

"Well, I suppose you will have to work on disciplining them then."

"Disciplining? No, no...I will simply withhold their days off until they begin to work with each other."

"Is that fair?"

"Fairness has no matter in the situation."

Isobel allowed the matter to rest, not having the energy or motivation to fight with Violet this afternoon. Violet poured the tea and cast a glance over at Isobel. The woman was truly paler than normal, and her eyes were distinctly red. She seemed to be smaller in some way, her shoulders dropped in defeat.

"Might I ask if you have heard from Lord Merton today?"

Isobel's fingers clenched around her tea cup. "No, I haven't. I don't suspect I will."

"Have you decided what you will do?"

"Meaning, will I still marry him?"

For the first time since the horrid dinner the evening before, Isobel's eyes met Violet's. The Dowager nodded silently, her look conveying rare concern instead of her typical curiosity.

"I cannot marry him…Larry was right. The disparity between us is too great."

Violet's eyes widened. "I must say you surprise me. I would never have imagined you of all people to believe that."

"But it is true, isn't it?" Isobel stood and crossed to the window, her arms crossing as she suddenly began to shiver. "You thought it yourself. I am a middle class nurse who has absolutely no authority in the community. I was raised in the home of a middle class physician, never was presented in court, and married in to a middle class family. I would not know the first thing about giving a large dinner party or hosting heads of state. I could never fill Lady Merton's shoes, and I would make Dickie the laughing stock in the House of Lords."

"My dear, the entity that is the House of Lords is already a laughing stock with this new government in place," Violet admonished, coming to stand beside Isobel.

But her hope to diffuse Isobel's melancholy was for not. She saw the tears in Isobel's eyes as the younger woman looked out the window.

"You do love him, don't you?" Violet asked quietly, cautiously placing a hand on Isobel's arm.

Isobel turned to face Violet, her eyes wide with fear. "What?"

"Do you love Lord Merton?"

"Well….I….of course I…."

"Isobel, if you truly love him, you cannot allow what his ridiculous son thinks to get in the way of your happiness. You do realize that Dickie is simply infatuated with you. I have never seen him as happy as the day you announced your engagement."

"But Larry and Timothy are and always will be his sons. I cannot come between a father and his children," Isobel replied, her voice eerily void of emotion.

"Do you really think that Lord Merton feels less for you because of Larry's snobbish remarks? No, this is Larry's way on ensuring his inheritance and nothing more." Violet scoffed once more and walked back to the table, frustratingly grasping the chair in front of her. This whole ordeal was infuriating….and though she knew in years past she may have agreed with Larry, times had changed!

"Larry has nothing to fear about losing his inheritance. Matthew is dead, and George will inherit Downton. Larry cannot possibly think Dickie would leave me anything."

Violet turned and sighed. Isobel was still facing the window, and the Dowager knew that there was no changing Isobel Crawley's mind once it was set. She knew Isobel thought she was doing the best thing for the Grey family, but was this truly for the best?

It was in that moment that Violet Crawley decided a phone call to Dickie Merton was in order.

* * *

"I'm afraid Mrs. Crawley is not up to tea today, milady. She has been quite under the weather as of late."

It had been a full week since Violet and Isobel had tea. She had phoned Lord Merton that same evening, and he confessed that he had given Larry quite a lecture regarding not only his rudeness but also his hurtful remarks that had absolutely no validity. But he was occupied with a few meetings and could not make it for the next week, though he wanted desperately to speak to Isobel.

Violet had arranged for tea on a Thursday and Lord Merton was due to arrive on the train that afternoon at 3:00. But now, as she spoke to the maid at Crawley House, her plan for Isobel and Dickie Merton to speak was slowly unraveling.

"Under the weather?"

"Yes, milady. She has turned down any invitations for the rest of the week. I'm ever so sorry, milady."

"Has she been seen by Dr. Clarkson?"

"No, milady. She said it was unnecessary."

"Perhaps I should call him for her?"

"Oh no, milady, please do not worry yourself. I'm afraid Mrs. Crawley would not hear of it."

Violet smirked. "I know she would not like it, but if she is that ill, she needs to be seen by a physician."

"Well…."

"My dear, I do not wish to put you on the spot. Tell Mrs. Crawley she is expected to be at tea at the Dower House at 4:00 this afternoon. If she is not here, I will come for her myself."

Before the maid had an opportunity to protest, Violet hung up the phone. Smiling to herself, she walked down the hall with a slight spring in her step and head held high.


	3. Chapter 3

"I truly appreciate your arranging all of this," Dickie Merton said, sitting down across from Violet that afternoon.

"I felt this might be a fairly neutral meeting ground, rather than back at Downton."

"After Larry's rude display, you are quite right," Lord Merton acknowledged, looking down in disappointment.

"But you've spoken with Larry? And he has come 'round?"

"I wouldn't say that…not yet anyway. But Timothy has been willing to listen. He even expressed interest in hearing more about Mrs. Crawley's time as a Nurse during the War. I think he agreed she is much more than what Larry suggested."

Spratt entered quickly. "Mrs. Crawley, your Ladyship."

Lord Merton stood immediately, Violet following suit as Isobel entered. Isobel's eyes widened as she stood shocked in the middle of the room.

"Lord Merton…"

"Isobel…please…do come sit," he pleaded.

Violet had to give Lord Merton credit for realizing there was most definitely something wrong with Isobel Crawley. Most men would have seen right past it.

"Indeed Isobel, please sit. You look awfully tired," she said quietly.

But Isobel remained standing in front of the pair, her eyes creasing in confusion and sadness. Violet worried as Isobel seemed to waver slightly, the dark circles under her eyes prevalent. Clearly she was not well, and Violet almost wished she hadn't insisted Isobel come. But it was done now, and both Isobel and Lord Merton were in the same room. It was time to put an end to their suffering, no matter which way things turned out. Violet believed it was better to have a conclusion rather than leave the question up in the air.

Stepping forward, she guided Isobel to the settee. She knew the woman was uncomfortable but she _was _engaged to the man. Dickie waited until Violet had taken her chair before cautiously sitting beside Isobel. Isobel looked down, unable to meet Dickie's concerned gaze.

"I've brought you both here because this business that Larry brought up at the dinner needs to be put to an end."

Isobel looked across to meet Violet's eyes, the thin line of her lips conveying her unease. Dickie cleared his throat and looked back and forth between the women.

"I thank you, Lady Grantham. You are right, of course. We should put an end to the elephant in the room."

Isobel looked down at her hands, twisting her gloves tightly in anxiety. Violet felt as though she should leave the two of them but moving in this moment would break the atmosphere. But as Isobel remained silent, she decided it might be for the best.

"I'll go see to the tea service. Take all the time you need."

She left the room quietly and shushed Spratt as he sprang forward in the hall. "Leave them for a few moments. I'll go see to the how the tea service is coming along."

Spratt nodded and moved back to his spot by the doorway. Violet prayed that when she came back, some sort of decision would be made. She feared her own emotions could not handle the stress much longer.

As the door shut behind Violet Crawley, Lord Merton chanced moving a bit closer to Isobel on the settee. She had taken to staring at the gloves balled in her hands and jumped slightly as his hand came to cover hers.

"I've spoken with Larry and Timothy, Isobel. I cannot guarantee that Larry will come around, but Timothy has asked to meet you once more. He would like to hear about your time as a Nurse….the medical profession does interest him as well. I guess that is one quality he takes from me."

Isobel cautioned a glance at her fiancée and smiled weakly.

"I suppose…."

"Please…let me finish. I want you to know that none of what Larry spoke changes my feelings for you. I do not want that to put a barrier up between us. Isobel, I still wish to get married….if you will agree. Please…"

She looked up at him, her eyes misty over his kind words. "I appreciate your telling me about Timothy. It would be nice to speak with him again. But, I'm sorry…I simply cannot allow you to marry a woman beneath what you deserve."

"But…"

"No, it's the truth. Larry was right. There is a great disparity between the lives you and I are accustomed to. I would never be able to fill their mother's shoes…not in the least. I have never given a grand dinner party nor hosted a benefit concert or fundraiser. Those are all things that the woman you marry should be able to take care of…to alleviate your worry over such details. And I would never be able…"

"Of course you would! Isobel, you underestimate your abilities. While there may be a time of learning, I have no doubt that you will flourish with any party or event we should host."

"But what would your friends and colleagues think of your marrying a widowed middle class nurse? I do not have any money to speak of, no land….I am nothing…."

"Isobel! Stop!"

Shocked, Isobel sucked in a breath as Dickie Merton stood before her, his fingers clenched into fists at his side.

"I will not allow you to speak so lowly of yourself. You are a confident, capable woman whom I know has more abilities in one finger than both of my sons have in their entire bodies. You cannot allow what Larry has said to change that. That is all that matters to me…not some party, some event, or some bloody diplomat's opinion!"

Tears sprang to Isobel's eyes, and she quickly looked away. Dickie's frustration dissipated immediately upon seeing her so upset. Moving to stand beside her, he leaned down and took one of her hands in his.

"I am sorry…I don't know what came over me. Isobel, I do not wish to hurt you…only to let you know how much I do care for you and want to continue our lives _together. _Please do not let my sons ruin that chance."

Isobel shook her head, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling. She did not dare look at him for she knew it would be her undoing.

"I will not allow a rift to come between you and your children. Losing a child is more than any mother or father should have to bear."

Sitting beside her once more, Dickie sighed. "I lost them years ago. I don't know that we ever had a true relationship. But that is my own fault, not yours. And it should not be your problem to fix but is mine and mine alone. I will take it on gladly…if you can promise me that it will not be the deciding factor in _our _relationship."

"But Larry and Timothy have rights as your sons…surely it would not do them well to have a father that is married to a simple nurse. Their own careers might suffer….the press would surely…"

Gathering all the courage he had, Dickie reached over and turned Isobel's face towards his. A bit taken back, her words faltered as he stared directly in to her eyes. She blinked quickly, uneasy at his serious look of intent.

"Dickie…please…you must let me…."

And suddenly, his lips were on hers. His hand reached behind her neck to pull her close, his other gripping her fingers tight. He could not help himself….he needed to show her just how much he cared. It was their first kiss, but he feared it may be their last.

It was not until he felt the muscles in her neck relax under his hold that he broke their embrace. He left go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her, letting out a shaky breath as her forehead cautiously lay against his shoulder.

"Don't make me let you go, Isobel. You make me feel alive…something I haven't felt in over thirty years."

She remained silent, her breath hitching in her throat and cutting off her words. What on Earth was she to do? As a mother, it went against every fiber of her being to marry a man whose sons despised her and would resent their father. But as a modern woman, she praised people like Tom and Sybil who broke the mold and married for love rather than propriety.

Now, faced with this same situation, what could she possibly do? Would her decision be the right one or would it end in suffering?

Dickie tightened his arms around her, pulling her even closer in to his chest. Her arms lay at her side, but suddenly, they found a life of their own and wrapped around Dickie's back. What was happening? She couldn't control her emotions and now, she couldn't control her physical self? This made absolutely no logical sense to her. She couldn't determine what could cause such reactions…

"I love you, Isobel Crawley."

The whispered declaration from her fiancée struck a chord and immediately, Isobel knew. She _was _in love…her logical side was telling her to stay away but her emotional side was screaming the truth loud and clear.

She pulled back slightly, enough that she could look at up him and offer a small smile. "The feeling is mutual, Lord Merton."

His eyes widened and his face dropped in shock, though quickly replaced by a large grin. "Does this mean…will you…will you still marry me?"

She nodded, biting her bottom lip and looking down. He gathered her in a fierce embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Oh Isobel…you have made me so happy. I thought I was going to lose you."

She smiled in to his shoulder and allowed herself a moment of joy for the first time since the dreadful dinner at Downton.

"You won't lose me," she whispered, "not yet anyway."

Laughing out loud, he pulled back and put a hand to her cheek. "Good. I wouldn't want you to think it was that easy to get rid of me."

Her smile grew as he leaned forward and captured her lips once more. The door opened and they both jumped back, though Dickie kept Isobel's hand tightly clasped in his. Violet entered and smiled at the wide-eyed couple sitting on her settee.

"Well, it seems the Spratt was right. The laughter he heard must signify a happy ending?"

She saw the pair's hands clasped together and smirked. She knew Isobel loved the man…even if she would never admit it to the Dowager.

Dickie cleared his throat and stole a glance at Isobel. She looked down to hide her own grin as he regarded the Dowager once more. "Well, at least it is the start to one."

Violet stood straight and placed both hands on the top of her walking stick. "Well, I'm glad you have both come to your senses. Now, how about we have some tea and can start discussing preparations."

Dickie stood and helping his fiancée to stand, smiled genuinely to Violet Crawley. "Thank you, Violet. We will forever be in your debt for arranging this."

Isobel also smiled, though Violet noticed how she held tight to Dickie's arm…and it seemed it was not just out of joy over their pending nuptials. Violet's grin faded as she noticed Isobel's face fall and its color turn white as Dickie led her over to the table. He helped Violet to sit after getting Isobel settled but also took note of Isobel's quiet demeanor when he sat across from her.

Violet cast him a questioning look and nodded over to Isobel who had busied herself with a napkin. Dickie studied Isobel's face and wondered just what was going on beneath her strong façade.

"Have you thought of a date?" Violet asked calmly, pouring the tea while keeping one eye on Isobel.

"No, we have not. I was thinking perhaps after the holiday. That way most everyone should be back from their travels to attend. What do you think, Isobel?" Dickie asked, accepting a tea cup from Violet.

When Isobel remained silent, Violet set the tea pot down and looked to Dickie. His face clearly conveyed the worry he had for Isobel. Before he could stand, Violet held a hand up to stop him. Turning back to the woman beside her, Violet reached over to touch Isobel's arm.

"Isobel?"

Something in Isobel snapped, and she turned quickly to look at Violet, her eyes wide and glistening with tears.

"I'm sorry. I must have been off in dream land. What were you saying?"

"Isobel, you don't look well at all. Have you seen the doctor?" Violet asked with concern evident in her soft tone.

"Oh…I'm fine. Just a bit overwhelmed I suppose..." she replied, offering Dickie a smile. Though with the way Dickie was looking at her, she feared her walls were beginning to crack.

"What is wrong, Isobel? Are you still concerned about the boys?" Dickie asked.

"No…well, of course I'm concerned about them. But you've assured me we can work through it, and that's confidence enough for me."

She tried to smile again, but the pain in her head was excruciating. The headache had been growing worse over the past week. She had tried headache powders, sleeping more, specially brewed herbal teas…but nothing had worked. Mrs. Field had offered to send for Dr. Clarkson, but Isobel supposed it was simply from the stress over the situation with Dickie. Hoping their renewed commitment to each other would help, she tried to wave away the concern of her fiancée and cousin.

Dickie cautiously stood and came to stand beside her. She looked up at him curiously. "Dickie...?"

"Isobel please let me ring for the doctor."

"My dear, Lord Merton is right. It won't do well to disagree," Violet added.

"Goodness, do I look that terrible?" Isobel replied with a small chuckle. But when Violet and Dickie did not join her in laughter, her smile broke. She drew in a sharp breath as she felt the tears begin to well, and the pain begin to grow worse. She did not want to cry in front of them. But the burden of how poorly she felt was wearing her down, and she feared she could not hold in her anguish much longer.

She pressed her fingers to the middle of her forehead as Dickie gently laid a hand on her shoulder. He looked to Violet who had already started towards the door.

"I'll have Spratt ring for Dr. Clarkson. Lord Merton, why don't you help Isobel up to the guest room? I will have tea and water sent up."

"Thank you," Dickie said, reaching his other hand down to wrap around Isobel's shoulders. "Come Isobel, let's get you upstairs."

"But…" She tried to protest but Dickie simply squeezed her shoulder and pulled her up to stand. The room began to spin and the light suddenly seemed to burst in front of her. Hissing in pain, she fumbled to gain her bearings and fell in to Dickie's chest.

"Isobel, what is it? What's wrong?" He held her close and allowed her to collect her breath before he leaned down to look her in the eye. "Isobel?"

He gently lifted her chin so that her eyes met his. They were blood shot and struggling to stay open against the harsh light of the afternoon.

"Please tell me what's wrong," he whispered, rubbing his thumb along her chin.

"It's…" She looked down as the pain struck in her neck and radiated down her back once more. She pressed her lips and eyes closed, grasping the lapels of his jacket tight to remain standing.

"Pain…dizziness…you must tell me, Isobel. The doctor will need to know," he pleaded.

"This headache…it's been getting worse," she answered softly, the pain weakening a bit to allow her head to lift once again. He pulled her closer to his chest and slowly turned her towards the door.

"We must get you upstairs to lie down. Doctor Clarkson will know what to do for the pain, all right? You just hold tight to me…we don't want to add any broken bones to his diagnosis."

Isobel smiled weakly, knowing how worried Dickie was but grateful that he was keeping his wits about him now. She, the stalwart nurse, was fumbling to remain upright while the aristocratic Lord was the picture of medical perfection. In this moment, she was appreciative of his interest in both her and the medical field. Perhaps she had finally met someone who was her equal in all ways; much like Reginald had been so many years before.

Upon reaching the door leading to the hallway, Violet met them with a maid in tow.

"Dr. Clarkson is on his way. It should not be long now. Elizabeth will take care of things in the room."

"I know it is not at all proper, but I think it best that I get her upstairs. I'm afraid Isobel is feeling a bit off balance just now."

Violet nodded, knowing this was one time where propriety could be thrown to the wind. "Of course. Elizabeth, lead the way dear."

The young maid hurried up the stairs as Violet followed, looking behind with every other step to make sure the couple behind her was still following. She worried at how quickly Isobel's guard had let down to show them just how ill she was. Dr. Clarkson had not seemed very concerned, but to see the formidable Isobel Crawley in such a state sent the Dowager Countess reeling.

She shook off her worry and focused on taking care of her cousin as best she could. Elizabeth had already turned down the bed and set the tea tray on the side table. Violet motioned for Dickie to sit Isobel on the bed and dismissed Elizabeth to await Dr. Clarkson on the first floor.

"Really, I will be all right. I don't need…"

"Isobel Crawley, you will stay in this bed until Dr. Clarkson has cleared you to travel back to Crawley House. I daresay you would never make it on your own. And until you can walk without aid, I expect you to stay here in this room and rest!"

Dickie's eyebrows rose and a small grin graced his face as he looked between Violet and Isobel, both whose expressions had turned in to serious glares. Violet banged her cane on the floor, causing Isobel's head to burst in pain. She quickly closed her eyes, one hand coming to her temple and the other to her stomach as queasiness almost overwhelmed her.

Quickly, Dickie leaned down and put both of his hands on Isobel's shoulders. "Isobel….Isobel what is it?"

He looked back at Violet when his fiancée did not move or answer. Violet stood shell-shocked, unaware that a simple bang of a cane could cause such an extreme adverse reaction. Isobel's breaths began to quicken as she moved one hand from her stomach to grasp Dickie's arm. She gripped his arm tight as the pain intensified, leaning forward to place her forehead on his other arm.

He stood helpless, his fiancée leaning heavily on his arm, and was at a loss of what he could do to help her. He looked to Violet whose eyes were also wide with confusion and fear over what to do for Isobel. The door opened and another maid entered with water and tea. Violet hushed the young girl and hurried her over to the side of the room to set the tray down.

"Send Dr. Clarkson up immediately when he arrives. I am going to wait here with Mrs. Crawley and Lord Merton."

"Yes milady," the young girl said, curtseying and rushing out the door. Dickie had taken a seat next to Isobel on the bed, putting a protective arm around her and pulling her in to his side. She buried her face in his neck and clung tight to his hand with both of hers.

"Violet, has this ever happened before?" he asked in a whisper.

Violet simply shook her head, finding she had lost her voice due to this shocking situation. She shakily sat down in the chair beside the bed, reaching over to pat Isobel's arm.

"It will be all right, dear. Dr. Clarkson will take care of everything."

Isobel did not acknowledge Violet's words except for a small squeeze to Dickie's hand. He sighed and rubbed his hand over her back gently but cautiously. He wished he could fix all of her hurt and pain right now, but inklings of his aristocratic upbringing limited the scope of his ability to properly comfort someone in this type of situation. Had it been the reverse, he had no doubt Isobel would be the apt nursemaid to him with loving words, comforting touches and healing hands.

"Isobel…might there be anything we can get for you? Are you thirsty?"

He pulled her a bit closer, trying to convey how much he worried for her.

"No…no," she whispered, her voice broken due to the increasing pain in her neck and head. It was all she could do to not give in to the exhaustion and nausea. Something was wrong….but she could hardly focus on staying upright, let alone come to any conclusion as to this mysteriously lengthy and difficult headache.

"Lady Grantham," Dr. Clarkson announced his presence and quickly surveyed the scene. Violet stood while Lord Merton nodded to the Doctor, though he chose not to stand due to Isobel's hold on him. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Mrs. Crawley has seemed quite ill since arriving. Her maid said earlier that she has been under the weather this week, but we did not realize how much so until this afternoon," Violet answered, motioning towards the woman in obvious pain beside Lord Merton.

"Well, let's see what the trouble is, shall we?" Dr. Clarkson asked kindly, setting his bag on the table beside the bed and turning towards Lord Merton.

"How may I help?" Dickie asked quietly, afraid to move for fear it would cause Isobel more pain.

Dr. Clarkson smiled at the other gentleman, keenly aware of how nervous the Baron seemed. "Why don't we help Mrs. Crawley lie down? She might be more comfortable that way and it will allow me to examine her."

"Of course. Isobel…" Dickie pulled away from Isobel slightly so that he could stand. His movement allowed light in to her eyes which she flinched at, quickly moving a hand to cover her eyes. Dickie stood and Dr. Clarkson stepped forward, both men guiding Isobel to lie down on the bed. Violet stayed back, sitting back in the chair and nervously clutching her walking stick.

"What do you think, Doctor?" she asked after the physician began his examination. He had tried to ask Isobel questions, but she simply had not been able to push past the pain to answer fully. He took out a small vial of medication and had moved to the far side of the room to mix a powder in a glass of water.

"She is suffering from what we call a migraine…an extremely severe headache. Normal powders will not alleviate the pain, especially if it is not taken care of immediately. This should help take care of the pain and help her sleep for a few hours."

"Do you know what caused it?" Dickie asked from his place beside Violet. His eyes never left Isobel who still held one hand over her eyes and gripped the blanket she was covered with.

"Unfortunately, there are multiple causes for these types of headaches. Though I've never know Mrs. Crawley to suffer from them. Has she been under any increased stress lately?"

Dickie looked down in shame, his hands coming to rest on his hips. Violet smiled sympathetically at him and turned to Dr. Clarkson.

"There have been a few events that have caused Mrs. Crawley a bit of concern the past few weeks. But, after this afternoon, those concerns have been taken care of."

The doctor raised his eyebrows and caught Violet's head nod towards Lord Merton. Understanding this inference, he nodded and moved over to Isobel's bedside.

"Mrs. Crawley, let's have you drink this shall we? It will help," he said softly, helping to raise her head so she could sip the water. He did not miss the small whimper that emanated from the woman as he held her neck up. He helped her lie back and then turned to Lord Merton and Violet.

"I think it best that she rest for the remainder of the day. I would not move her, if at all possible. She should sleep for a few hours. When she wakes, it should be safe to take her back to Crawley House to rest. I can write instructions for her staff. She should stay in bed tomorrow to rest if the migraine has truly lasted for the past week."

"Right…should someone remain with her…in case she should get worse throughout the night?" Dickie asked, his eyes focused on Isobel's small form on the bed.

"It might be for the best. I can have one of the nurses from the hospital check in on her," Dr. Clarkson offered. Violet held up her hand before the gentlemen could continue with their discussion.

"There will be no need for that. I will ring over and have her maid prepare a bag and bring it for this evening. She can stay here."

The men both seemed a bit surprised but nodded in agreement.

"That is very generous, Lady Grantham," Dr. Clarkson replied.

"Indeed. Thank you ever so much," Dickie added.

"Call it returning a favor," Violet said quietly, walking past the men to head out the door and ring Crawley House. She stopped before leaving and reached down to gently squeeze Isobel's hand. "Rest easy, Isobel. We'll have you better in no time."

Isobel's eyes remained shut but she responded in thanks by squeezing Violet's hand back. The elder Crawley patted Isobel's shoulder before determinedly walking out the door towards the phone. Dr. Clarkson gathered a few more items out of his bag and motioned for Lord Merton to join him on the far side of the room. He gave Dickie instructions as to when to give Isobel another powder, should the pain continue.

"Do you feel it may get worse?" Dickie asked, looking back towards Isobel.

"I hope not. Typically migraines will lose their intensity once these powders are administered. With Mrs. Crawley being as strong as she is, I have no reason to believe this will keep her down for long."

Dickie breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the doctor. "You have given me a great deal of hope, Doctor. Thank you for that."

"Of course. And do not hesitate to call should you have any further questions or if something seems out of the ordinary."

He closed his bag and turned to shake Dickie's hand. "Mrs. Crawley is indeed lucky to have someone care so much for her. She does deserve it, you know."

Dickie looked down as a bit of pink tinged his cheeks. "Thank you, Dr. Clarkson. I only hope I can make her as happy as she's made me."

"I'm sure you will. Now, I will bid you a good afternoon."

Dickie nodded to the doctor who moved over and patted Isobel's shoulder. "Do rest, Mrs. Crawley. I expect you at the clinic next week, hm?"

Isobel smiled weakly, her eyes remaining closed and nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Clarkson."

As the doctor left the room and shut the door behind him, Dickie timidly walked over to the bed and sat beside Isobel. Reaching over, he took her hand between both of his and rubbed it slowly to help warm her freezing fingers.

"Is there anything I can get you, Isobel?"

Cautiously, she allowed her eyes to flutter open. Squinting, she looked up and reached her free hand up to brush her fingers down his cheek. "No…having you here is more than enough."

He smiled wide and took that hand in his as well. Pulling both of her hands up, he gently pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles before tucking her arms in beneath the large blanket.

"Sleep now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

As he did not hear footsteps coming close, he gently touched his lips to hers. He allowed their kiss to linger for a moment before sitting up and brushing a few stray hairs off her forehead.

The door opened a moment later as Violet re-entered, a maid in tow.

"How is she?" she whispered to Lord Merton, noticing how Isobel seemed to have calmed.

"She just fell asleep. The doctor feels the powder will help bring her through the worst of it."

He stood and took Violet by the arm to lead her away from Isobel, hoping not to wake her.

"I cannot thank you enough for allowing her to stay here, Violet. I know I said it before, but it truly comforts me to know she is not going to be alone in Crawley House tonight."

Violet smirked and looked over to analyze Isobel. The woman, though asleep, still looked pained in expression. She worried that her friend, her cousin, her confidant was suffering from more than this migraine.

"No need for that. I cannot claim to know how to nurse her back to health. But I can make sure she has round the clock care. Bethany will stay with her until this evening when one of the other maids will take over. I'm sure you would like to stay?"

Dickie looked down, a bit bashful. "Yes…that is, if it will not be a hindrance to you or your staff. I would like to be here when she wakes, if only to let her know she is safe and being cared for."

"Of course. Stay for dinner. We won't change…and I will tell Spratt to have another place set."

"Are you not expected at Downton?"

"Not tonight. They're expecting me this weekend when Rosamund comes. We will eat late, to give you a bit more time with Isobel, if you wish."

"You are quite generous, Violet," Dickie admonished.

"My, I've heard that more this afternoon than over the past ten years. I would hate to lose the reputation of being hard to win over."

Dickie laughed softly and bowed to her. "I will not give away your true colors, Violet."

The two sat beside Isobel's bedside for the next few hours, speaking quietly about the woman lying in front of them…and both inwardly praying this headache was nothing more than the last and final remnant of the turmoil begun by the Grey sons.


	4. Chapter 4

_**6 months later:**_

He stood outside the door and cleared his throat, his hand shaking slightly in reaching for the doorknob. Taking a few deep breaths, he slowly turned the knob and opened the door to the last bedroom on the right, in the East Wing of their large home. He smiled when the young lady's maid and his new wife both turned to see who had entered.

"Might I come in?" he asked quietly.

Isobel smiled warmly and nodded, her own voice overwhelmed by her nerves.

"Thank you, Elsa. You've been a dear," she said, turning to acknowledge the young lady's maid who had gathered her evening gown and gloves to take down to the laundry.

"Anything else you need, milady?"

Dickie smiled seeing Isobel's eyes widen slightly at the new title she was still unaccustomed to hearing. Isobel thanked the girl but declined.

"Very good, milady. I shall see you in the morning. Goodnight, milady…milord." Elsa smiled kindly as she walked past Lord Merton who still stood next to the door. The lady's maid exited, stifling a giggle that threatened to come out at seeing the usually stoic Lord Merton so nervous this evening.

Back in the room, Isobel looked down at her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. She and Dickie had not talked about this…their wedding night that is. They had discussed all the details for the large event that day, moving from Crawley House, family dynamics….everything that two people should talk about before they marry. But this was the one subject that had not dared to broach.

Dickie moved a few steps forward and clasped his hands behind his back. "I do hope you're not too tired out from the day. It was quite eventful."

She shook her head and looked back up at him with a grin. "No…not _too_ tired. But I'll admit I'm not so young that these "all day" events do not wear me out a bit."

He chuckled and cautiously stepped forward until he was in the middle of her room. His wife's room….his Lady Merton….his Isobel….his….

He never dreamed it would actually happen and now here he stood, a new wedding ring on his finger and the light of the fire dancing off the diamond band she wore. She had not wanted anything too outlandish, but he could not help but spoil her some. She would never know how truly happy he was…so it was in the finer details that he attempted to show her.

She mimicked his movement and moved to stand, feeling a bit awkward with her hair down for the first time in his presence. She clasped her hands together in front, a bit chilled in the thin nightgown and robe she wore. She was not used to silk…she had never been one for such expensive clothing, especially when she only wore it to bed.

But, this had been a gift from Cousin Cora…a gift she had been told would make a certain Lord very happy. She had blushed at the comment, while Cora, Mary and Edith giggled like young girls in front of her. Why she was so nervous when she had been married before? Perhaps because it had been over 20 years since she had been with a man…perhaps because she had married above her station. Her confidence was fading in this moment, not knowing if she looked all right…if she would make Dickie happy…if he truly liked her new attire….if he even wanted to be in her bedroom….

Dickie could see the wheels turning in Isobel's mind as her eyes seemed to drift off. His concern for her overwhelmed his anxiety as he stepped forward and put his hands on her arms. She looked up at him and offered a small smile.

"I wasn't sure if you would come," she all but whispered, looking away from his intense gaze.

Her loveliness was astonishing, and he decided that his former thought of her looking most beautiful in her wedding gown was incorrect. It was in this moment, with her figure was bathed in firelight and her hair curled down her back, that he realized she was even more gorgeous than he realized.

"Of course…I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now," he said, catching her eyes in his. He smiled sincerely and allowed his hands to travel down her arms to take both of her hands in his.

"It's just…I know you didn't often stay with the former Lady Merton….I don't expect you to…"

He pulled her hands up to his lips as her words trailed off. "My dear, that was a different time…and a very different marriage. I hope, with your permission, that my dressing room will not become my bedroom as it once was."

Her smile widened as she breathed a small sigh of relief. "I would not have it any other way."

Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'm glad that's settled."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down, away from his deep gaze. "As am I."

He grinned and pulled her in to a hug, knowing how nervous she was…perhaps even more than he.

"Isobel?"

"Hm?" She was relishing being held close against him, taking slow breaths to calm her racing heart.

"I do not want to hurt you…nor do I want to push you in to something you do not want. I am happy to simply hold you in my arms tonight."

She pulled back slightly and lifted a hand to his cheek. "Dickie…I...you're a dear man. I know you would never hurt me….but….I fear I may not be able to please you."

She pushed away from his chest and turned towards the fire, crossing her arms as a chill went up her spine. Her chin dropped as sadness washed over her.

"It's been so long….I want to be the best wife I can for you…." She turned to face him and found he was looking at her with simple care and compassion, not expectation. She melted under his gaze and a stray tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. "…I don't want to disappoint you."

He crossed to her in three long strides and took her face in his hands. "My dear, you think I do not have the same fears? I daresay the both of us are in quite a similar situation. But, I can honestly say that you could never disappoint me. Everything about you…what you do, how you look…everything is perfect, Isobel. You are the reason I want to wake up every morning…"

Another tear slipped down her cheek and on to his thumb. Brushing it away, he leaned down and captured her lips in a deep kiss. Her hands made their way to the lapels of his dressing gown as he pulled her close. Breaking the embrace, he leaned his forehead against hers.

"Believe me?" he asked quietly.

She nodded against his chest and allowed him to hold her for a few moments. Then slowly, she pulled back and looked up at him.

"I do love you, Dickie," she said quietly, allowing her hands to come off his chest to play with the cords of her dressing gown.

"And I you," he replied, smiling warmly at her as she looked up at him. But his eyes soon traveled down as he saw her pull on the cord of her gown and take a step towards him. His eyes widened slightly as she stood in front of him, and he caught a glimpse of the extremely thin nightgown she wore beneath her robe.

Tentatively, he brushed her hair back and pushed the robe off her shoulders. As it fell to the ground, he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close.

"You are absolutely beautiful, Isobel," he said, his voice cracking under his nerves.

She blushed and looked away, gasping slightly when she felt his lips on her exposed neck. She bit her bottom lip as unearthed feelings she hadn't known for over 20 years began to surface. He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close, placing one hand on the back of her head and cradling it to his chest.

"We do not have to go any further than you want," he whispered in to her hair, softly stroking the long curls down her back. She reached her hands up and caught the cords of his dressing gown, smiling up at him as his dressing gown opened. His surprised expression was replaced by a wide smile when she winked at him.

"Tonight….I will go anywhere with you," she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to pull his lips down on hers. Of that….she was certain.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to everyone for the sweet reviews! I hope you enjoy this next part…it was a bit difficult to write but I think we're getting there!

* * *

_**2 months later:**_

"Father! Father, wake up!"

Timothy Grey pushed through the door to his father's dressing room but found it empty. Cavenham was eerily quiet, save for his own footsteps rushing down the hallway.

_Where on Earth is he? _

The young man rushed down the next hall, mentally checking off the rooms he would imagine his father to be in. He had already checked the drawing room, library, study and now his dressing room, but Dickie Grey was nowhere to be found. He hadn't remembered his father saying anything about going away on a trip. He and his new stepmother had only just returned from their honeymoon a few weeks earlier.

_Isobel…._

Turning quickly, he rushed from the West side of the house towards the East Hallway. Why it had not occurred to him that his father would be with Isobel, he wasn't sure. He could tell immediately that Dickie's relationship with the new Lady Merton was completely opposite of the one he'd had with Timothy and Larry's mother. It pained him to know how unhappy his parents had been, but he had no time for reminiscing or nostalgia now. He had to get his father's help…or else suffer the consequences.

He reached Isobel's bedroom and knocked loudly, not waiting to hear a response before he burst through the door.

"Father! Father!"

Dickie Merton woke with a start and sat up straight. His first glimpse was that of Isobel, slowly uncurling herself from against him. He turned quickly to find his youngest son standing beside the bed, clearly agitated. He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, cursing under his breath as the light hit his eyes. Timothy's face was white and beads of sweat dotted his hairline.

"What on Earth is going on?" Dickie growled, grabbing his dressing gown from the end of the bed and turning to make sure Isobel was all right. She had been extremely tired that night after coming back from a visit with George, Sybbie and Marigold earlier. He worried for her…not knowing if all the travel they'd done recently had agreed with her.

Isobel also took her dressing gown from the end of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, smiling weakly to Dickie before he turned back to his son.

"Father, I need your help downstairs. Please… it's Larry…."

All movement stopped as Dickie's eyes widened. "What's wrong? Is he all right?"

Timothy shuffled from side to side; feeling quite awkward under his father's scrutinizing eyes. "Yes…well only in part. Please, just come."

"Why…what has he done?" Dickie asked, noting how Timothy would not meet his eyes….a true sign that he was holding something back.

"I…well…you'll see for yourself. But I don't want to wake the servants. It would cause quite a scandal."

"Is he hurt?" Isobel asked, always the nurse when panic arose.

"Yes…he…he was in a fight. He's pretty cut up. Father, please!"

Dickie sighed and grunted as he stood, turning back to apologize to Isobel. But she was already up and coming around from her side of the bed to meet him.

"Isobel…"

She held up a hand to interrupt him. "Dickie, if he's hurt, he will need some stitching up. And I'm quite sure I can thread a needle better than you, dear."

Timothy was a bit shocked that she was willing to help, but he would welcome anything to get Larry out of the mess he was in.

"Father, we must hurry. I don't want the police to find him outside."

Dickie whirled around, his eyes wild with anger. "What do you mean 'police'?"

Timothy swallowed the lump in his throat and instead of answering, turned quickly to rush towards the staircase. Dickie held his hand out and Isobel caught it with hers as they followed the young man to the front door.

"Stay here," Dickie instructed Isobel, following Timothy to out the main entrance to the estate.

Isobel heard a small scuffle before Dickie and Timothy pulled Larry in from the front doorstep. She gasped slightly….Larry was in bad shape, with a large bruise already forming on his swollen cheek.

"Goodness, what on Earth happened?"

"He got in to a fight at the local pub…the police came after him, but I was able to take the back roads with the motor and lost them about a half hour ago," Timothy said, straining under his elder brother's heavy weight.

Isobel took charge, moving forward to pull Larry's chin up so she could see the extent of his facial injuries.

"Get him to his room. I'll get my bag, and we'll see what we can do. He should see a doctor," she replied.

"No! We can't! Father, tell her! They'll arrest Larry if a doctor comes," Timothy cried, fearing he was partly to blame for this catastrophe.

Dickie shifted his weight so Larry would not fall forward and scowled at Timothy. "He probably deserves it."

"Father!"

"Let us take care of Larry first and then we can discuss what to do. I'll help as much as I can," Isobel said, her first concern being Larry's health…not whether or not he should be jailed.

The men struggled to get Larry up the stairs and in to his bed. Dickie stepped back and regarded his eldest son with disappointment, as Timothy tried to wake Larry up by shaking him.

"Come on, Larry! Wake up you bloody fool!"

"What made him get in to this fight?"

Timothy didn't respond, only looked down in guilt.

"Do not tell me that he was trying to get out of paying for drinks."

"No, it wasn't that. Though he did have quite a lot…"

"Timothy….the truth!"

Timothy looked at his father but refrained from giving the full story when Isobel walked in the room. Larry was laying flat on his bed, beginning to snore lightly, a quirky smile on his lips. Dickie helped Isobel put a fresh water pitcher and basin on the side table. She opened her bag and pulled out some ointment that she wanted to put on Larry's cuts.

"Was he hurt anywhere else that you know of, Timothy? Legs…ribs?" she asked, her eyes never leaving Larry as she poured some ointment on to a fresh cloth.

"No…there were quite a few punches thrown…but only to the face. I'm not sure about his shoulder though. It was hanging rather awkwardly when I got him in the car."

Isobel nodded and began cleaning Larry's wounds, his snoring getting louder with each passing moment. Dickie could smell the alcohol permeating the room and ran a hand through his hair.

"How much did he drink, Timothy?"

Timothy remained silent until his father took him by the lapel of his jacket. "Tell me!"

Timothy sighed. "A lot…I stopped counting. I know he had at least 6 pints…"

"Dear God…" Dickie threw his hands up and allowed them to slap against his legs, exasperated by his son's immaturity.

The room fell silent as Isobel finished cleaning Larry's wounds and then moved back to her bag, taking out a needle and thread.

"Do you really have to stitch him up?" Timothy asked, knowing his older brother was not very strong when it came to pain.

"Only this one on his cheek. The others will heal within the next few days. But this one is far too deep to leave open," she replied, threading the needle and turning up the lamp on the side table. She looked at Timothy who stood with both hands on his hips, eyeing every move she made.

"The alcohol should help numb any pain. But just in case, why don't you hold him down a bit?"

Timothy hesitated until Dickie threw him a glare. The young man nodded and put both hands on Larry's left shoulder while Isobel quickly and expertly stitched up the cut on his face. She finished within five minutes and stood, setting down the needle and washing her hands in the basin of water. As she dried her hands, Dickie moved forward and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Isobel. You should not have had to do that."

"It's all right. I wish I could say he will feel better in the morning. But I'm afraid he will have quite a headache to deal with," she remarked, setting the towel down and moving towards Larry once more. Dickie looked over her shoulder and saw her gently touched Larry's right arm, turning it over and then slowly moving it to the side. Timothy looked up and noticed how her expression fell when Larry's arm would not move as far as she wanted it to.

"What is it?"

Isobel sighed and stood straight, taking a moment to steady herself. It seemed the room started spinning… but she supposed brushed it off as a lack of sleep. However, Dickie saw her waver and moved forward to put his hand at the small of her back.

"Isobel?" he asked, evidently concerned at her unsteady appearance.

She looked up to him and smiled weakly. "I'm afraid his shoulder is out of joint. We will have to put it back in….preferably before he wakes up."

"How do we do that?" Timothy asked.

"If both of you hold him from the left, I can pull on his right arm. The tension will pop the shoulder back in to joint."

Timothy winced. "Isn't that painful?"

"Yes…very. But hopefully, the alcohol will help him remain asleep. Either way, he'll be in less pain with the shoulder back in than he would waking with it out of its socket. I would hate for him to wake up and have to endure it with nothing to numb the area."

Timothy looked to Dickie timidly. "Father, I'm not sure…"

"As this is the only plan we have without involving a doctor or police, I suggest you listen to Isobel and do as you're told."

Timothy acquiesced and stood, inching away from his father when Dickie came to stand next to him. For some reason, Dickie had become quite intimidating as of late. Perhaps that was another change due to Isobel. Before, Dickie had never cared what sort of trouble Larry and Timothy got in to. He would simply fix it with the police or school master when needed. But now….now, his father was clearly angry. And Timothy did not wish to say something that would light any more fuses in Dickie's Merton's frustration tonight.

"All set?"

Isobel looked to her husband and stepson who both nodded. They took a firm hold on Larry's left side and on the count of three, Isobel pulled hard on Larry's right arm. They each heard a loud pop, followed by a cry of pain.

"Bloody hell!"

Larry sat up straight, his eyes blazing fire and the smell of alcohol coming out with every word he spoke. His eyes moved back and forth across the room with vigor until they finally settled on a presence beside him. Lurching forward, he grabbed on to whatever it was that caused him this pain, hoping to fight back against it. He pulled and gripped as hard as he could, his vision severely impaired from the alcohol to the point where he could not tell if it was a man or woman he was fighting against.

"I said get off me, you filthy…."

"Larry! Stop!"

Timothy quickly pulled Larry back as Isobel stumbled to the side, clutching her wrist against her chest. Dickie ran to her and helped her in to a chair by the fire while Timothy subdued Larry.

"Get off of me!" Larry shouted, pulling Timothy down by the lapels.

"Will you be quiet, Larry?!" Dickie yelled, his attention quickly turning back to Isobel. He held her wrist in his hands, monitoring her face as he pushed on certain muscles and joints. Biting her bottom lip, she was able to hold in her tears but could not hide the large bruise now forming on the underside of her right wrist.

Dickie reached up a hand to cup her cheek. "Isobel, I'm so sorry."

Timothy pushed back against his older brother, making Larry even angrier. "You idiot…you don't even realize what you've done!" Timothy yelled.

"Now see here…" Larry began, reaching across to try and grab hold of Timothy once more.

"Getting in to a fight over a lady…that's why you're in the state you're in! You're a mess and sorely out of line!" Timothy's frustration had hit its peak and seeing Larry lash out at Isobel, who had been extremely generous in this situation, infuriated the younger Grey brother. "Now pipe down or else you'll ruin everything!"

"Get out, all of you! Just get out!" Larry grimaced as he tried to push out of the bed, his right arm still weak after the shoulder dislocation.

"Enough!" Dickie shouted, standing quickly and glaring at both of his sons. "I do not want to hear one more word out of either of you the rest of the night. We will discuss this in the morning and not before."

Turning back around, he took hold of Isobel's good hand and helped her up, keeping a protective arm around her. Larry threw his father and stepmother a glare of disgust as they moved past him. Timothy, in turn, scowled at his older brother and followed Dickie in to the hallway.

"Father…I apologize. I don't know why Larry acts this way sometimes."

Stopping to turn and look at his youngest, Dickie sighed and shook his head. "Leave it, Timothy. We all need to sleep on this."

"But Father…"

"Timothy…not tonight," Dickie warned, pulling Isobel a bit closer and heading back towards their bedroom. Isobel cast Timothy a small smile before allowing Dickie to lead her off. But no amount of empathy would help the youngest Grey sleep this evening as his thoughts wavered between right, wrong and the unknown.


	6. Chapter 6

"There, how does that feel?" Dickie asked, tying a knot to secure the bandage covering Isobel's right wrist.

"It's perfectly all right, Dickie. You didn't have to…"

"My dear, you did not need to care for Larry tonight. It was most generous, and he is undeserving of any of your expertise. At least let me attempt to mend what damage he has caused."

Leaning forward, she kissed him gently and smiled. She reached up her left hand to brush a hair off his forehead. "Thank you. You've done a proper job of it….I may have to hire you to help in the clinic."

He chuckled and turned the light on her bedside table off. He then pulled off his dressing gown and threw it on the end of the bed beside hers. Climbing under the covers, he turned his lamp down and gently pulled her in to his chest. They lay in silence for a few moments, and Isobel had almost drifted off before Dickie spoke again.

"Isobel?"

"Mm?"

"I don't deserve you."

"Dickie…"

"The boys have been absolutely horrid. I wouldn't blame you for leaving and never turning back."

Isobel quickly pushed away from her husband to lean back on her elbows. "Richard Grey...I'd hope you would remember I am not one to allow a few unkind words to scare me off."

He reached up to brush her hair off of her shoulder. "Isobel…I am so lucky to have you. It's just…the boys…"

His hand rested on the side of her face, his thumb absently stroking her cheek as he became lost in thought. She knew how hard he had been trying to reconnect with the boys… include them in dinners and events that they hosted…write to them regularly. The reason they were here now was because he had asked them down for the weekend party at Downton beginning Friday evening. To have them defy him in this way after he'd been trying so hard…she could only imagine how devastated he felt.

She lay down and placed her head on his chest. "The boys have quite a lot of thinking to do. But, as you said, let's wait to talk about it until morning. Nothing will be solved until then and it will not do well to handle them on a lackluster night of sleep."

He kissed the top of her head, causing her eyes to turn upward to meet his. "You always see the logic when I cannot."

"That's what I'm here, dear. Just you remember that…"

His lips finally turned upward in a smile as he pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

It was not until late the next afternoon that Larry made his way down to the drawing room of Cavenham, finding his father reading the paper and his stepmother writing a letter. He squinted against the sunlight filling the room and cursed under his breath before moving through the archway.

"Thought you'd never wake up," a voice said from the far corner of the room. Timothy was sitting by the far window, a book in one hand and a tumbler of whiskey in the other. Dickie and Isobel both looked up to see Larry enter the room, one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other hanging limply at his side.

"I wish I hadn't," Larry replied lowly, turning a frown towards his younger brother.

"That makes two of us," Timothy replied taking a long sip of his whiskey.

"Timothy, that's enough. And you had better make that your last drink or you'll be in the same state as Larry," Dickie replied, folding the paper and setting it to the side.

Isobel remained silent as her husband stood, moving towards his oldest son with a look of intent. She knew Dickie had been preparing for this conversation all morning. He had gone off to meet with a few tenants that morning but then went for a long walk by himself after luncheon, choosing to let her finish some thank you notes alone. Normally, he preferred she be with him but this was one occasion when he needed to come up with an ultimatum for his boys. He could no longer allow their antics to disrupt his and Isobel's lives.

"Well…what do you have to say for yourself, Larry?" Dickie asked, stopping in front of the young man and clasping his hands behind his back.

"About what?" Larry asked, not meeting his father's harsh stare.

"Last evening. Timothy claims that the police were after you…what story shall we give this time when they arrive on our doorstep? Mistaken identity? False claims?"

Larry met his father's eyes and scowled at him. "Who says I did anything wrong?!"

"A typical response from the guilty party!" Dickie stated firmly, his voice rising a bit. Turning, he strode towards the far window and looked out across the estate. Larry hung back, his eyes bouncing between his father's back and his younger brother now sitting silently on the window seat.

"I have come to a decision. It is past time that I teach you both a lesson…something I fault myself for not doing earlier in your lives. But should the police come and question your involvement in a fight last evening, I will tell them all I know."

"Father, you…"

"I mean it, Larry!" Dickie exclaimed, turning back to glare at his eldest son. He began moving slowly towards the young man, his voice growing louder and more confident with each stride.

"I spent a good deal of time with your friend at the pub, Hank. He detailed all that occurred last evening; how you first tried to seduce a woman to leave with you…how you then got in to a fight with the man she accompanied that evening…how you fled the scene once the police arrived…"

Dickie shook his head in disappointment and stopped directly in front of Larry. Larry had turned his face to the side, refusing to acknowledge Dickie's words.

"I am tired of picking up the pieces of your mess time after time. You are over thirty years old, and you act as though you have no responsibility. Well, my boy, it is time you pay for your mistakes on your own. And should you ever choose to seek help from us again, you will be sure to be gracious in your actions, rather than entitled and rude!"

"I asked for no help from you…and certainly not from her!" Larry shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Isobel. "This is all her fault, for God's sake! If you hadn't married her, none of this would be happening…she's changed you and made you forget your duty as a Father!"

"How dare you! MY duty is to my family and my home. Isobel is a very large part of my family and I had hoped you and Timothy would share in that!"

"But yet you chose to marry her….after we expressly said that it was not right for you! How could you go against your own flesh and blood?"

Timothy stood, coming to stand a few steps behind Dickie. "Now wait just a moment, Larry…"

"You be quiet, Timothy," Larry demanded, turning back to glare at Dickie. "She has no right in this house…no right to stand in for mother! Can you imagine the way heads will turn when they learn you are married to a common nurse from Manchester with no birthright, no children, no money and no experience in the way we live?!"

Dickie moved to take Larry by the scruff of the neck but Timothy's legs were longer and faster. He slammed Larry up against the wall, causing Isobel to move from her frozen position on the settee. She stood quickly, her hand quickly covering her mouth, and cursed the tears that filled her eyes.

"It is Isobel who saved your hide last night, you bloody fool! She cared for you more in a half hour than mother did our entire lives! And yet she sought NOTHING from you!"

Larry shoved Timothy to the side with his good arm and pointed a menacing finger at Dickie.

"Mark my words…if you allow this marriage to continue, you will regret it."

"The only thing I will regret is that I allowed your mother to impart her selfish ways on you when you were a child," Dickie replied slowly, his voice having become eerily quiet.

"You bastard!"

Larry lunged at Dickie but Timothy intervened, grabbing Larry's right shoulder. Larry grimaced and quickly fell to one knee. Dickie strode forward and stood over his eldest son.

"If you only knew who your mother truly was, you may not be so proud to trumpet her name around the continent. Perhaps I should not have kept secret how the rest of the state knew her as a lady of the night, stealing husbands away from their wives and children. And THAT, Larry, is the reason I do not choose to remember her fondly."

Turning, he quickly moved to Isobel's side and took her hand in his, leading her to the doorway. She clung to his arm, a bit fearful that Larry would charge Dickie once more. He felt her hand shaking and squeezed it tight, knowing his decision was the right one.

"You dare say one more word against Isobel and I will make sure you have no more money from this estate… for the rest of yours _and_ your children's lives. Be gone within the hour, Larry. I do not want to see your face in this house again."

And with that, Lord and Lady Merton left the room, silent shock coming over the two men left in their wake.

* * *

They walked in silence for quite some time, Dickie leading Isobel through the vast gardens of Cavenham to no point in particular. He sighed every once in awhile, but she did not want to push him in to further conversation. It surprised her he was even standing, knowing how much it took out of him to speak what he did to Larry.

Though it pained her to see him hurt and to know his relationship with the boys was tarnished, her heart swelled with pride over his defense of their marriage. She had never questioned Dickie about his former wife…having heard things herself about Lady Merton's private "meetings." But now, knowing the truth, she felt such sorrow for the life Dickie had endured. And to think he had kept it from the boys…to protect them…and now they treated him so horridly? She felt all the more protective of her husband and grateful of his trust and confidence in her after his disastrous first marriage.

"Thank you…" Dickie said quietly as they rounded a corner leading back towards the house.

She looked up at him and squeezed his hand. "Whatever for?"

He stopped walking and turned to face her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently. "My dear, by being here…by being you…you have allowed me to see that there is a life beyond sorrow and guilt."

She blushed slightly as he linked her arm through his and continued on towards the house. Pressing a bit closer to his side, she laced her fingers through his. "I will do anything I can for you, Dickie. Anything at all…."

"I know," he answered with a small smile. He looked forward as they continued on, his jaw set and his eyes determined. "I want to focus on you and I from now on. The boys will only be a part should they choose to change. I do not want to worry about them affecting how we get on, you see. I care about you, Isobel…not what the rest of the world thinks."

"I quite agree," she replied.

He nodded and caught her eyes in his. "Then as long as you are on my side, I am confident we can make it through this storm. With or without the boys' support."

She put her injured hand on his arm and urged him to stop. His eyebrows rose in curiosity as she stepped in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers.

"You are a strong man, Richard Grey. You mustn't forget that. And I will be right beside you during this storm. I will do my best to include the boys, should they choose to change….but if they choose to treat you in such a fashion again, I may be tempted to scold them and send them to bed with no supper."

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her gently. "Thank you, my dear. Thank you."


	7. Chapter 7

******A short one but a good one…I hope ********

* * *

"Are you quite all right, milady? You seem a bit tired this evening," Elsa said, placing another pin in Isobel's hair.

"Hm? Oh, yes, quite all right. Thank you, Elsa. Was your day pleasant? Are things going well with the new footman?"

"Yes milady…quite well indeed. He seems a strong lad, and Mr. Mead is rather pleased at how quickly he has learned the role."

Isobel smiled up at the girl, trying to mask how fatigued she truly was. She typically did not need to nap during the day but after she returned from her walk with Dickie, her eyes were begging for rest. Elsa had woken her after almost two hours of sleep, but she felt anything but refreshed.

There was a small knock on the door, signaling Dickie had arrived.

"Come in," she called out, pulling on her long gloves. She was grateful for them this evening, knowing she would have had to explain her bandaged wrist otherwise.

Dickie smiled to Elsa who nodded to him and placed the last pin in Isobel's hair.

"Good evening. Are we quite ready?"

"Yes milord. Just one more thing…" Elsa replied. She picked up a diamond studded hairpiece and gently secured it in Isobel's hair. Isobel's eyes closed as Elsa pushed the piece in to her hair, wincing at the extra pressure on her scalp. A twinge went down her neck, causing her to grip the edge of her vanity.

"I'm so sorry, milady. Are you all right?" Elsa asked, finishing her task and cautiously placing a hand on Isobel's shoulder. She looked back to Dickie who was looking at the pair curiously.

Isobel quickly recovered and patted Elsa's hand. "Just fine dear. I suppose I am still a bit tired. Not to worry though, hm?"

Elsa, still worried at Isobel's sudden change in demeanor, stepped back and smiled weakly to Lord Merton.

"Will there be anything else milady, milord?"

Dickie shook his head but kept a close eye on Isobel. Isobel also declined and thanked the lady's maid. Elsa left quickly, concerned that she had somehow hurt Lady Merton…and she feared that it would come back to haunt her soon.

Dickie, keeping one eye on his wife, took out his pocket watch. "We'd better head down if we are to make it to Downton on time."

Isobel finished with her gloves and took a deep breath, trying to steady the shakiness she suddenly felt. "You're right. I wouldn't want to give Violet a chance to harp on our tardiness."

Dickie chuckled as Isobel stood. She took his breath away with her classic beauty, and his smile widened as she turned to face him.

"You look lovely, my dear," he said softly, taking a few steps forward to stand in front of her.

"Cheeky…" she replied quietly, a low chuckle following from both of them. He reached out his hand and she took it gladly, hoping his strength would help steady her. But as she took a step forward, her leg seemed to buckle beneath her. Dickie quickly moved in to catch her by the waist as she gripped his hand and fell in to his chest.

"Isobel? Are you all right?"

She took a moment to catch her breath and allow her heartbeat to slow to a steady pace before she nodded. "I'm sorry…"

"No need for apologies. What happened?" he asked, genuinely concerned as he pulled back and put two steadying hands on her arms.

"I…I must have tripped over my dress," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. She knew he would see the pain she was in if she dared look up at him. Though they had been married a mere two months, he could already read her like a book.

"Shall I call Elsa to fix something…or allow you to change?"

"No, no. I'll be all right. I've just been a bit clumsy," she answered, now looking up at him to offer a smile. "Or perhaps it was the dashing man in front of me that made me weak in the knees."

Laughing softly, he leaned forward to give her a gentle kiss. "Now who is being cheeky?"

He turned and linked her arm through his, keeping his free hand over top of hers. She gripped his arm a bit tighter than normal, her right leg still feeling quite weak…almost lifeless. She figured she may have slept incorrectly and tweaked a nerve…an honest possibility that she knew would mend itself within a day or two.

But as they continued out of the room and towards the staircase, each step required greater focus than ever before. Thankfully, Dickie allowed her to hold to the railing and took her opposite arm in his, giving her support on both sides. What on Earth was the matter with her this evening?

It was not until she was safely seated in the motor that she calmed a bit. Surely this was not something serious…surely not.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the lengthy wait for an update! But here you go!

* * *

"And how are things at Cavenham? Busy after your time away?" Mary asked Dickie as they sat down in the drawing room of Downton Abbey. He smiled at his goddaughter who sat next to him on the settee.

"The work on an estate, as you well know, is never ending. But, I think we are getting in to a nice routine now that we've been back a few weeks."

"And you are happy?" she asked, one eyebrow arching to match the grin on her lips.

Dickie cleared his throat and looked down, a bit embarrassed by Mary's obvious insinuation. "Yes…yes I believe we are quite happy."

Mary reached over and uncharacteristically squeezed his hand. "Then I'm glad. It is high time you and Isobel both enjoyed this life."

She stood and winked at him, moving over to speak with Tom and Edith. While Cora claimed Mary's seat to chat with Dickie, Violet and Isobel caught up with each other across the room.

"And you have not heard more from the Princess?" Isobel asked.

"No…Shrimpie said there has been trouble with her transportation into the country," Violet replied quietly.

"But you have seen Prince Kuragin?"

"He has popped by on occasion…for tea mind you," Violet said, her voice lowering to a whisper and her look warning Isobel to maintain her silence on the subject. Isobel suppressed laughter by looking across the room to catch Dickie and Cora laughing softly.

Violet saw the look of content cross Isobel's face upon seeing her new husband enjoying himself. While Violet inwardly celebrated for the new Lady Merton, she knew well enough to maintain her hardened exterior while in public. Surely the Dowager Countess could not have the village or family thinking she had gone sappy in her old age. Mary had recently caught her in a moment of weakness…she couldn't allow it to happen with others.

"So married life is agreeing with both of you?" Violet asked as Carson announced dinner.

Isobel's smile widened as she stood. "I think so."

Violet joined her as they began to head for the dining room. She noted how Isobel quickly took Dickie's arm after only a few steps. Curious, Violet walked beside the couple and closely watched her cousin Isobel. Something was amiss…though it did not seem to have anything to do with her new husband.

_Perhaps it is those horrid sons of his, _Violet thought to herself, making note to ask Isobel about it after dinner. But as Carson helped her in to her chair, she looked across and found there was something more imperative she should discuss with Isobel. For the grimace that crossed Lady Merton's face when she sat caused a pang of fear to run through the Dowager's core. And that was not a feeling she wished to dwell on for very long…

* * *

"Robert, I'm taking my leave," Violet said, kissing Cora on the cheek and turning to her son.

Robert leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Sleep well, Mama. We will see you tomorrow for tea with the children?"

Violet scoffed while Cora suppressed a chuckle. "I do not understand why I am required to attend."

"Mary has the photographer coming tomorrow to take pictures with the children before Tom and Sybbie leave for Boston," Robert explained again.

"But why do I need to be included?" Violet asked, clearly anxious over spending time with the youngsters.

"Mama really…do you not want memories with your great-grandchildren?"

"There is a time and place for memories with them. Preferably when they are old enough to understand the difference between a toy and an antique!"

Robert rolled his eyes. "It will not take long, Mama."

"Have it your way…walk me to the door," she instructed, nodding to Cora and turning on her heel. Robert shrugged his shoulders at Cora and followed his mother out of the room.

Once they were out of earshot, Violet slowed her steps. "I think there is something off with Isobel."

Robert, clearly surprised, stopped to face his mother. "With Isobel? She seems happy as a lark! Both she and Dickie said they enjoyed a wonderful honeymoon…I hardly think…"

Violet held up a hand. "I do not think it has to do with Dickie…though his sons are not helping their situation, I'm sure."

"Mm, indeed."

"No, no…it is something else I noticed this evening. I want you to look in to it."

"Mama…"

"I want you to ask Dickie about Isobel's health."

"Her health? Goodness Mama, what on Earth do you…."

Violet began walking towards the door again, not acknowledging Robert's protests.

"Mama….wait…"

Violet nodded to Moseley who helped her put on her coat. "Thank you, Moseley."

"Mama, really….what are you on about? I cannot walk up to Dickie and ask him…." He looked over and caught Moseley still close enough to hear their conversation. "Well, I cannot just ask him that sort of thing, Mama. There must be a reason you have."

"There are…but we will not discuss them now. You will do as I say and if you think it so outlandish, be more observant the rest of the evening. Now, I will say good night."

And with that, the Dowager Countess of Grantham left the Abbey with a smirk on her face and a dumbfounded son in her wake.

* * *

"Did you notice anything different about Isobel this evening?" Robert asked, draping his dressing gown across the back of a nearby chair before climbing in to bed beside Cora.

"You mean something besides the smile she wore all night?" Cora asked, a small giggle emerging as she closed her book. Looking to Robert, she found him deep in thought. "Robert…what is it?"

"Mama…she feels something is wrong with Isobel."

"Oh, your mother. She can never let things be…goodness, just because Isobel is happy for once does not mean…"

"No…no, I think she may have a point."

Cora stopped mid-sentence, her mouth partially hanging open as she turned to face Robert directly. "You cannot be serious."

"You were playing cards with the children when she and Dickie left this evening. I walked them to the door…and that's when I noticed it…"

"Noticed what?" Robert remained silent, seemingly contemplating what he had seen. "Robert! What did you see?"

Robert shook himself from his memory and looked to Cora. "She's tired…very tired."

"Well, who wouldn't be after spending a month abroad? Plus, she's had to move in to a new home and begin renovations...and then there are Dickie's boys…."

"I quite agree. She is very deserving of a good rest. But, this seemed different. She almost clung to Dickie when they walked to the car. I've never seen her so dependent on anyone…not even after Matthew…."

Cora smiled sympathetically as her husband grew silent upon mentioning their dead son-in-law. She reached over and took Robert's hand. "Perhaps Isobel has finally found someone else to lean on. You must admit she has not had that for quite a long time."

"Mm, true," Robert replied, replaying the scene in his mind over and over. Was his mother correct? Or was his wife?

"Enough for tonight... it won't do to dwell on it now. We will see Isobel and Dickie next week when we dine at Cavenham. Why not see how she is then, all right?" Cora asked, leaning over to gently kiss her husband.

He reached over to turn off his lamp and took her in his arms. "You're right. I'm sure you're right."

"Aren't I always?"

Robert smirked and kissed Cora's temple as they settled in for a good night of sleep.

* * *

The room of Lady Merton was silent when Dickie entered that evening, lit only by the dim, flickering fire. He quietly closed the door when he saw Isobel already asleep beneath the covers, one hand across her stomach and the other arm stretched out towards his side of the bed.

He could tell straight off that she was tired when they left Downton earlier that night. Her hold had been tighter than normal as he helped her to the car, and their conversation back to Cavenham was minimal. He attempted to ask her how things were progressing with the Dowager and Prince Kuragin, but her eyes had grown heavy and her head had quickly dropped on to his shoulder.

He sighed in contentment at the memory of placing his arm around her and holding her close for the rest of their trip home. He treasured knowing she reciprocated his feelings and felt at ease with him near.

He left his dressing gown on the end of the bed and climbed in next to her as quietly as he could. Gently, he moved her arm and slid under the covers. She stirred a bit, turning to face him, but her eyes remained closed. He lay down and took hold of her free hand, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles.

He smiled as she sighed in her sleep and rolled a bit closer to him. He mimicked her action and moved so that his shoulder brushed hers. Keeping her hand in his, he fell in to a relaxing sleep, all the while unaware how tired Isobel truly was.


	9. Chapter 9

"It is such an honor for you to be here, Lady Merton."

Isobel smiled warmly at the middle-aged woman leading her through the hallways of the local orphanage. Mrs. Ingle was the matron of the establishment, having worked for over twenty five years finding new homes for the orphans that came through her doors. To have a woman of Lady Merton's status come to visit the children and learn what their needs were…well, that was almost unheard of! It warmed the elder matron's heart to know there were still reputable members of the aristocracy.

"It is my pleasure, Mrs. Ingle. I do so appreciate your time. I know how busy you must be. Might there be any way I can help?"

Mrs. Ingle motioned for Isobel to take a seat as they entered her small office. Mrs. Ingle sat at her desk and smiled kindly to Isobel.

"You are so kind, Lady Merton. I think the children simply appreciate a bit of attention every now and then. They so long for normalcy that I'm afraid I cannot give them."

Isobel nodded and remained silent for a moment, a plan formulating in her mind. "Perhaps Lord Merton and I could help create a bit of fun for the children. To help them feel like the rest of the children in the village."

"Oh, but…"

Isobel held up a hand. "Please…allow me to explain. As you said, the children do long for normalcy. Perhaps a small carnival and picnic would help them to feel more at home with the people of the village? I would hope all of the children would be there…we can have games; treats; animals….and we will take care of the cost, of course. The only thing you would need to do is organize the children to visit us at Cavenham. Shall we plan on next month?"

"Lady Merton…I…I don't know what to say," Mrs. Ingle replied softly, tears welling in her eyes. "The children would surely enjoy themselves. But…there are so many of them…"

"And we have more than enough room for each of them. I'll pop by next week with a date and details. If the plans come together, we can tell the children so they'll have something to look forward to, all right?"

Isobel stood and clasped her hands in front of her. Feeling a great sense of motivation, she reached out a hand to bid Mrs. Ingle a good day. The matron stood and clasped Isobel's hand between both of hers.

"God bless you, Lady Merton. I cannot say how much we appreciate this."

Isobel squeezed the woman's hands before turning to leave. "I will see you next week then."

Mrs. Ingle stepped around her desk and opened the door to allow Isobel out. "Thank you, milady. Thank you."

Isobel waved goodbye and thanked the young girl who opened the front door for her. Mrs. Ingle pressed a hand to her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks. The young girl at the door closed it behind Isobel and hurried to the matron.

"Mrs. Ingle, what's wrong?"

Elvira Ingle smiled through her tears at the young girl and kissed the top of her head. "Nothing at all, my dear. Nothing at all."

* * *

"Dickie darling, I have the most wonderful….oh, I'm so sorry…." Isobel's exciting news was cut short upon entering the drawing room and seeing an unfamiliar gentleman sitting across from her husband.

Both men quickly stood when she entered, Dickie crossing to take her arm. "No need for apologies, my dear. Inspector Davis was just taking his leave."

"I hope I did not interrupt," Isobel replied, looking between Dickie and the Inspector. "Might I offer you some tea, Inspector?"

"Thank you, Lady Merton. But as Lord Merton said, I am just taking my leave. He has helped a great deal this afternoon. And now, I will bid you both a good evening."

The Inspector shook Dickie's hand and bowed slightly to Isobel before letting himself out of the drawing room. Dickie made sure the Inspector did not linger before closing the drawing room door and turning to Isobel. He wore a tense smile, signaling to Isobel that his meeting had not been as fruitful or pleasant as hers.

"Is everything all right?" she asked as he came to stand next to her. He kissed her cheek and took her hand in his.

"I'm not sure. Time will tell, I suppose." He guided her to sit on the settee and then took a moment to gather his thoughts. She squeezed his hand gently and pulled him down to sit next to her.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid Larry has truly done it this time," he replied with a sigh. Dropping her hand, he ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back. He shook his head and closed his eyes in sadness. "Timothy went to the Inspector to detail an account of what happened the other evening. He did not want the pub owner, nor the villager who fought Larry, to be accused of any wrongdoing."

"My…how valiant of Timothy," Isobel said quietly.

Dickie nodded and opened his eyes to smile weakly at her. "The one shining light in this whole mess. Perhaps one of my sons has finally realized what is important in this life."

Isobel reached over and cupped Dickie's cheek with her hand. "And how are you?"

She eyed him intently, a sure sign that he had better tell her the whole truth or else he would be prey to her frustration at being kept in the dark. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to his side, detailing what information the Inspector was looking for. Larry was charged with assault and this time, no amount of begging for immunity on the part of Lord Merton would get the young man out of trouble.

Dickie had agreed to comply with whatever needed to be done to help the Inspector close the case. It was with a heavy heart that he detailed the events of what happened two nights before, confirming Timothy and the pub owner's stories. Isobel leaned her cheek against his shoulder, an overwhelming sadness stealing away her pleasant afternoon.

"I am so sorry, Dickie. I wish it had not come to this."

"I'm sorry too….but it would have happened sooner or later. This is for the best, Isobel. It seems to be the only way he will learn. I wish I would have taught him more when he was young…showed him what was important…the difference between right and wrong…."

Isobel sat up quickly and turned to look at him directly, her expression quite serious. "You must not blame yourself for the past. You have apologized time and again to Larry. If he does not wish to take responsibility for his actions, that is his choice. He is a grown man…and nothing you do or say now will change him if he does not want to change himself."

Dickie's face broke in to a smile as he reached down to take her hand in his. "How did I get so lucky to marry someone so wise?"

"Ah, that is a secret such a lady would not give away easily," she teased.

He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek before standing. "I'm sorry to cast such gloom over the afternoon. Perhaps this evening's festivities will be a bit more exciting."

Isobel had almost forgotten there was a small gathering at Downton that evening, to be followed by a night of dancing. She moved to stand next to him when she felt an all too familiar twinge in her neck. Dickie caught sight of the pained expression which crossed her features and took hold of her arm.

"Isobel…are you quite all right?"

She shook off the pain and nodded. "Of course. I suppose we should go get ready for tonight. What time would you like to leave?"

Not fully believing she was fine, he kept hold of her arm and led her out of the drawing room. "I'll pop in around seven thirty. Are we to pick the Dowager up tonight?"

"No, she was going to stay after tea with Cora this afternoon."

"Very well. I must stop and tell Mead of our plans this evening. I will see you in a bit, hm?"

She nodded as he gently squeezed her arm and kissed her cheek, heading off to find the Butler. Turning to the staircase, she grasped the railing tight. Though she was standing completely still, the room continued to turn around her.

"Your Ladyship…might I be of any help?"

Mrs. Crane, the housekeeper, walked up behind Isobel and noticed the woman's pale color and dark eyes. Isobel forced a smile and slowly shook her head.

"Thank you, Mrs. Crane, but I think all is in order. Would you be so kind as to let Elsa know I am going to lie down for a bit before changing tonight?"

"Of course, milady. I can send up a tea tray if you like."

"No…no, that's quite all right. His Lordship would like to leave for Downton tonight around seven thirty. If Elsa comes up around six o'clock, I would be grateful."

Mrs. Crane nodded. "Very good, milady. Rest well."

Isobel smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Mrs. Crane."

The Housekeeper turned to leave but not before she noticed the wince which crossed Isobel's face. She stayed in the shadows and made sure Lady Merton made it to the top of the stairs before turning to head down below. Banking this information, she hurried to find Elsa and alert her to the message from Lady Merton. She only hoped that no more came of the curious encounter she'd just had with the new Baroness.


	10. Chapter 10

Elsa made it a point to be overly gentle when working on Isobel's hair that night. She'd noticed how different Isobel seemed when she arrived to help her change an hour before, but had remained silent on the subject. It would not help to upset the woman more than necessary.

Isobel had woken when she heard the door open to signal Elsa had arrived. Her head was pounding and her neck throbbing, though she did her best to put up a strong façade in front of the lady's maid. But as the moments wore on, the headache began to take its toll on Lady Merton. As Elsa finished pinning Isobel's hair up, a wave of nausea quickly came over Isobel. She closed her eyes and leaned forward slightly, her breath hitching as she clutched the edge of her vanity.

"Milady…milady?" Elsa gently placed her hand on Isobel's shoulder, quite nervous over the cringing Baroness seated in front of her.

Isobel allowed the feeling to pass before she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to dry her tears. "I'm so sorry, Elsa…" she whispered, swallowing the large lump in her throat.

Elsa came around to face Isobel, instantly aware something was very wrong. Lady Merton has never seemed so ill, her color ashen and lips trembling. "Milady, perhaps it would be best if I call for the doctor."

Isobel shook her head but immediately regretted it. The pain intensified, running from the front of her head down through her upper back. She suppressed a whimper and closed her eyes again, her grip tightening on the edge of the vanity.

The young lady's maid made a quick decision, knowing it may jeopardize her position, and gently wrapped an arm around Isobel's shoulders. "Milady, let's get you to bed. I do not think you should be going anywhere tonight."

"But Dickie…"

"I will let Lord Merton know. You need to rest, milady. Come now…"

She gripped Isobel's shoulders with both her hands and supported the Baroness as she stood. The elder lady wavered dangerously, saved only by the lady's maid's strong hold on her. Elsa slowly helped Isobel to the bed, covering her up with a thick blanket after taking off the woman's shoes. She hurried to the closet and gathered a comfortable nightgown and warm robe.

When she re-entered the room, she noticed Isobel's hand covering her eyes. Thinking it best, the lady's maid turned down all the lights in the room save for the oil lamp on the opposite night stand. Though it took quite some time, she was able to help Isobel change from her evening dress in to her night clothes. She poured a glass of water for Isobel but it was all for not. Isobel was fast asleep, and Elsa knew it would not help to wake her.

She noted Lord Merton would soon be coming up to change, so she quietly closed the door and went in search of his valet, Mr. Shaw. She hoped his Lordship would understand...and would heed his wife's wishes to not send for the doctor straight away. She feared she would not have a job in the morning if Dr. Thompson arrived and upset Lady Merton. Elsa knew better than to go against a nurse's wishes…especially when that nurse was a Baroness.

* * *

When her eyes opened again, all Isobel recognized was the glow of the fire across the room. She took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light and take in her surroundings. The room was quiet and much darker than when she had fallen asleep that afternoon. She felt as though she'd slept an entire day and knew she would need to shake off her drowsiness if she were to be presentable at Downton that evening.

She moved to sit up but felt every muscle in her upper body tense. Moaning softly, she fell back in to the pillows, wishing she had not slept so long. Her eyes widened in shock when she felt a hand on her cheek.

"Isobel…are you awake?"

Turning, she saw Dickie seated beside her on his side of the bed. She smiled but then noted he was in his dressing gown with a book open on his lap.

"Dickie…what time is it?" she asked, her curiosity quickly turning to confusion. She began to get quite anxious as he eyed her intently. "What is going on… why aren't you changed?"

"Now, now….everything is all right. We aren't going to Downton this evening. In fact, I'm sure the party is over by now."

"Over? What…"

"It's after two in the morning, Isobel," he replied softly, setting his book aside and reaching over to take one of her hands in his. She stayed silent, trying to remember what had happened.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He could tell she was more than confused, almost frustrated at her lack of understanding the situation. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You had quite the headache. Elsa helped you in to bed and after I came to see you, I had Mead call Downton to give our regrets for the evening."

"Oh Dickie…" Snippets of the evening began to come back to her, and guilt soon followed. "I…I am so sorry. I've done quite a fine job of ruining your social reputation it seems…"

She moved to turn away, but he gently grasped her arm to keep her from turning over. "Isobel, dear, nothing matters more to me than your well-being. No social event could keep me from being by your side."

Her strong front began to crumble as she squeezed his hand and looked down. "Thank you," she whispered. "Were they upset that we did not attend tonight?"

"No…quite the opposite. Mary even told Mead to make sure you did as you were told. It seems your daughter-in-law knows you do not like to stay put for very long," he replied with a chuckle.

She offered him a small smile and looked up to catch him watching her closely. "I _am_ sorry to have ruined this evening."

"Shh," he hushed, leaning down and kissing her softly. "No need for that. Just tell me truthfully…how are you feeling?"

"A bit sore but it will be much better by morning, I'm sure," she replied, smiling weakly.

"Roll over for me," he said, sitting up a bit straighter.

"What?" she questioned, quite confused as his smile widened.

"I have decided it best to learn all I could to help you with these rather infuriating headaches. You do realize I am not one to sit idly by and watch the woman I love suffer alone, don't you?"

Isobel's eyes softened as she reached over to take his hand. He took it in both of his own and continued. "I have been reading over what treatments have been shown to work for these migraines. I hope to speak to Dr. Clarkson and our Dr. Thompson about the different options. However, there is something that I think might be of help now…no doctor needed."

One eyebrow arching, she regarded him cautiously. "Well now…what is this treatment, Lord Merton…or shall I say Dr. Merton?"

He laughed softly and let go of her hand, gently helping her to roll on her side. "Just relax. If this hurts too much, do tell me."

"Goodness, I'm not sure I should agree…" But her words were cut off as his hands came to rest on her shoulders and gently began to knead her rigid muscles. At first, the tension was so great that every press sent pins and needles throughout her neck and head. But slowly, the stiffness began to dissipate as her muscles loosened and her neck was able to move of its own volition.

He rubbed across her shoulder blades softly when he saw her sigh and relax deeper in to the pillows. Smiling, he knew his research had done him well that evening. He cautiously began to remove the pins from her hair, fingering the curls lightly and massaging the back of her head. He heard a small moan emerge from his wife but could tell it was not one of pain; rather, one of relief.

Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head and allowed his hands to rest on her shoulders. "Better?" he asked quietly.

"Much….thank you," she whispered, her eyes closed with a tiny smile crossing her lips.

"Anything for you, Isobel," he whispered back, his left hand rubbing up and down her arm softly. She rolled back over slightly, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"I do not deserve you," she said, pulling his head down and brushing her lips against his. Breaking, he smiled and then kissed her cheek before trailing small kisses along her jaw line and finally making it to her neck. Her fingers trailed through the hair on the back of his head as he placed a lingering kiss behind her ear.

"Dickie…" she breathed, opening her eyes as he looked down at her.

"Mm?"

"I'm not sure this was what your book suggested as proper treatment…" She suppressed a giggle as he winked at her and grinned sheepishly.

"Perhaps not…but there's no reason not try everything we can…"

And with that, his lips covered hers…doing everything they could to relax Lady Merton.


	11. Chapter 11

Dickie paced back and forth in front of the large bay window in the drawing room. He took out his pocket watch and angrily clicked it shut, seeing as only five more minutes had passed since the last time he'd looked. He needed a distraction, though he was sure nothing would keep him from worrying.

It had been almost an hour that Dr. Thompson had been examining Isobel. While Isobel had insisted that she was fine and no doctor necessary, he had taken a chance and called the young physician anyway. For the first time since they had been married, he realized the fire dancing in Isobel's glare was now directed at him. Dr. Thompson had asked him to wait down here, so that he would be able to go over Isobel's history and symptoms without many interruptions. Elsa had stayed in the room, making sure Isobel had all the help she needed and that her integrity remained intact.

Dickie sighed and sat heavily in the arm chair beside the settee. Rubbing his chin, he kept going over the symptoms Isobel had described since her horrid headache last evening. Fatigue…pain in her neck, back and eyes…dizziness…imbalance…

He tried not to think of the commonalities between her symptoms and other illnesses he'd read of while she'd slept last evening. It could simply be that she was overtired from their lengthy honeymoon and the stressful business with Larry and the police. But something in him said this was more than a headache…and that was why he was adamant about bringing Jonathan Thompson to Cavenham that afternoon.

Dickie was startled out of his thoughts when the drawing room door opened and the young doctor walked in.

"Lord Merton…"

Dickie stood quickly and met the doctor in the center of the room. "How is Lady Merton?"

"Just fine. She's resting now, but I'm sure she will feel much better within a day or so."

"Splendid. Have you any idea as to what the trouble is?"

The doctor motioned for Dickie to sit. The young man rubbed his hands together before sitting on the settee and meeting Dickie's eyes.

"Lord Merton, I believe Lady Merton is overtired and simply requires a few extra hours of rest every day…another week or so of this should help rebuild her stamina."

"And that is why the headache occurred last evening? She is fatigued?"

"Perhaps. I have asked Lady Merton to keep a log of her symptoms over the next few weeks. I would like to be sure of all that is going on before sending her for unnecessary testing or putting her on medication which will be of no benefit to her."

Dickie sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. The young doctor seemed a bit too timid for the elder Baron's liking. "Dr. Thompson, I would remind you that Lady Merton is my wife, and I am privy to information regarding her health. Please tell me the whole of her condition as you see it."

Sighing, Dr. Thomson nodded slowly. "Lord Merton, while I cannot be sure, I find that Lady Merton's symptoms are consistent with a neurological disorder…rather, there is a problem within that we cannot yet see."

"Neurological? You mean…?"

"Yes…within the brain. Because of this, I find that it is affecting her neck and back…the spinal cord in particular."

"And you can know all of this with one simple examination? I do not understand how you can possibly…."

Dickie moved to stand, clearly angered and upset by this new revelation, but Dr. Thompson held up a hand.

"Please, Lord Merton…allow me to finish."

Dickie held in his temper and took a moment to stare the young man down. He wanted to be sure this physician was speaking the truth, not trying to throw his education and medical knowledge in the face of someone who had no medical training. So when Jonathan Thompson did not back away, Dickie felt the man to be competent and motioned for him to continue.

"While I cannot be sure at this time, Lady Merton's headaches, fatigue, imbalance and neuropathy seem to signify there is an issue with the nerves in her vertebrae, stemming from the base of her skull. It is complicated…very difficult to diagnose anything definitively until we have more information…which is why I have asked Lady Merton to track these symptoms and their causes. The more information I can gather, the more I have to work with to find the best treatment for your wife."

"I see….but you said 'neuropathy'," Dickie responded, looking off in thought. "What do you mean by that?"

Dickie looked back to see the young doctor look down, a frown on his face.

"Dr. Thompson…I would appreciate the truth."

The doctor nodded but would not meet the baron's eyes. "Neuropathy is the loss of feeling. Lady Merton indicated that she loses feeling in her right leg and foot at times."

"But she…she has never said anything of this. You must have heard her incorrectly," Dickie replied, standing to head for the door. He needed to speak with Isobel…now. But Dr. Thompson leaped to his feet and grabbed Dickie's arm, stopping him quickly.

"Please, milord…I understand you are upset, but she did not want to worry you. It seems both of you are more concerned with taking care of the other's emotions." Jonathan dropped Dickie's arm and took a step back, his head dropping once more.

Dickie took a moment to collect himself before turning back to regard the doctor. "Might I be of any help to her during this time?"

Dr. Thompson chanced looking at the elder man and smiled sympathetically at the obviously distraught Lord Merton. "See that she gets a proper amount of rest and does not take on too many projects…at least not until she has regained some strength and the number of headaches per week has decreased significantly."

Dickie nodded and crossed back to the bay window, clasping his hands behind his back. The young doctor gathered his medical bag from the floor and was about the leave when he heard the Baron speak once more.

"Why would she not tell me? "

Stopping at the drawing room door, Dr. Thompson turned and answered quietly, "Because she loves you too much to hurt you in any way. Or so her lady's maid told me."

And with that, the young doctor quickly left Lord Merton to his thoughts and fears.


	12. Chapter 12

FINAL CHAPTER :)

* * *

Elsa quietly came up behind Isobel who was seated in front of the fireplace, a book in one hand and her cheek resting against the other.

"Might I get you something, milady? Some tea perhaps?"

Isobel lifted her head and smiled at the lady's maid. "No, thank you Elsa. I'll be sure to change for dinner this evening."

"Are you sure milady? The doctor did say…"

Isobel shook her head quickly. "The doctor said to rest this afternoon, not become an invalid and stay in bed for the week. I'm quite capable of dining downstairs tonight."

Elsa smiled in understanding. "Very good, milady. I will be up at the gong."

Isobel appreciated the girl not arguing with her. She already felt as though her independence was breached. She had been learning to give up much of her life as a single, widowed woman…but to have Dickie call for a young doctor against her wishes was nagging at her. She tried to understand her husband's position…but she could only feel frustration in this moment.

_Frustrated at myself, _she thought. She knew the symptoms and headaches, in particular, were getting worse. But she was stubborn…she would admit it. She did not want to accept help when she thought she could handle the situation herself.

The door opened quietly and closed. Isobel supposed Elsa had forgotten something, choosing to continue staring in to the flames, rather than turn to acknowledge the lady's maid. She jumped slightly, however, when a deeper voice spoke.

"Dr. Thompson assures me you will be feeling better with a bit more rest the next few days," he spoke quietly, noticing her flinch. He cursed himself for startling her and looked down in shame.

"Yes, so he said," she replied quietly. She picked at the edge of the book, desperately trying to control her emotions.

"I'm quite sure you are not at all happy with me for sending for him," he answered, gathering the courage to step up to her side. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before meeting his gaze. "Isobel…"

She shook her head and looked down. "Dickie…I know you meant well…it's just…I'm not quite used to the idea of someone else worrying over me." She looked back up at him with a small smile. "I am sorry for getting so upset…"

"You had every right," he answered softly. "I should not have phoned him without speaking to you first. But Isobel…I am your husband, and I do love you. I want to take care of you…if you'll only let me."

Isobel swallowed the lump of emotion swelling in her throat and looked in to the fire once more. "Dickie…"

"Might I offer a compromise?" he asked, taking a chance and reaching down to take one of her hands in his.

She nodded silently as he continued. "You are quite accustomed to worrying over others…your family…friends…patients…and even now, you worry over how I am feeling, what I need, how the boys are…"

He squeezed her hand and reached over to lift her chin. She met his eyes and saw the serious look he fixed her with. "I wish to take care of you, as any good husband should. And if you allow that, I can assure you that I will not call the physician without your permission. I do not wish to smother you, but Isobel…I cannot stand by when there is clearly something wrong…."

She set her book to the side and stood quickly, staring him straight in the eye. "Darling, I am going to be just fine. Whatever this doctor thinks…"

Dickie let go of her hand and put a finger to her lips. "What he thinks is neither here nor there. What matters is if you are feeling ill, you let me know. I will not press you to stop going to visit the orphans or to cut back on your work at the hospital. But you must, _MUST_, allow me to be a party to your well-being, Isobel. Please…"

Isobel averted her gaze once more, fighting between her self-sufficient nature and her yearning to please Dickie. Could she really deny him such a simple request? He was her husband, and he had vowed to take care of her…for better or worse…in sickness and in health.

Was it fair to keep her feelings, physically and emotionally to herself? Here he was, unashamedly declaring his love and devotion to her, something that went against his stoic, aristocratic nature. She knew it would be unfair of her to continue keeping him at arm's length.

"I will do my best," she began quietly, "…but you will have to forgive me for lapsing in to my independent ways at times. I'm afraid twenty some years of keeping to oneself makes old habits die hard."

He laughed softly and turned her face back towards his. "Agreed. And I will do my best to not be a mother hen. Heaven knows I would never hear the end of it from the Dowager."

Isobel chuckled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Your secret is safe with me, sir."

"Then we have a deal, milady?" he asked, his smile widening.

"We do, milord," she answered, pushing back and holding out her hand to shake his.

He took her hand but instead of shaking, pulled her close and drew her in to a sweet kiss. Breaking, he winked at her. "That, milady, is how a husband and wife should seal a deal."

* * *

I hope you liked this story! Please let me know your thoughts!


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